Lost For Words
by Crescent Moon the Mage
Summary: *MINOR DARK WORLD SPOILERS* The burden of the throne has fallen to Loki, and with Odin out of the way, he's in luck- until Thor comes back and finds him out. Loki is sent to Midgard for rehabilitation and meets the strange woman who haunts his dreams- though she has no memory of it. With S.H.I.E.L.D on his tail, can Loki take back what was his? Or will gain something new?
1. Chapter 1

_You only need the light when it's burning low_

_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow._

_Only know you love her when you let her go,_

_And you let her go._

_-Let Her Go, Passenger_

Being king was exhausting, realized a raven haired trickster, trying his hardest not to look extremely bored. Oh wait, Odin always looked extremely bored. Loki tried not to smirk a very out-of-character smirk as he slumped on his throne, wrapping his wrinkled hand more firmly around Gungnir. Ah, being king had certainly helped him polish up his acting skills.

Finally, after the sky had grown dark, and the stars were twinkling, did the guards finally announce that all his kingly matters were done. Sighing, Loki walked off towards his chambers. He would never understand why _every single day_, Odin had legions of unimportant people waiting outside, demanding an audience. He had done his best to deal with them all, but they were grating on his nerves.

_At least Thor's not here, to muddy your rule with his idiotic counsel,_ Loki reminded himself. Finally having reached his chambers, goodness, Odin walked slowly, he shut the door and immediately morphed back into himself, flopping headfirst onto the bed.

After a few moments, he pulled himself up and stared into the mirror. He didn't look like himself. Not like Odin, either, thank god his magic was still working, but his face was gaunt, his eyes haunted. The overuse of magic was taking its toll on him, and he'd never really recovered from any of the events of the past two years.

Of course, that was the exact moment when Thor, having been on Earth for half a year, conveniently banged open the door. "Father!" he announced, stepping grandly into the room. "I have returned for a visit!"

Loki tried to vanish, but his magical reserves needed time to recharge, as it were, and he only succeeded in stumbling, nearly blacking out. Red spots danced in his vision. Thor ran over to him. "Loki? You're alive! Why are you in Father's chambers? Where is he?"

That was all Loki heard before he blacked out.

And awoke in a completely different place. He was in a bed, covered in red, pink, and blue patterned sheets. Sun shone brightly through a large bay window. A girl was sitting on the window seat, reading a large purple book. She seemed to be speaking to herself. She looked about twenty, with fiery red hair that came past her shoulders and a blue shirt. She was surrounded by posters. They covered the floor, and some of them were tacked up to the walls. They advertised something called a "42nd Street." Others had other, random words and pictures highlighted, like "Wicked," and "Newsies." He turned back to the girl, to find that she was staring at him with brilliant blue-grey eyes, like the sea before a storm. She smiled a knowing smile.

"Hello, Loki. How are you?"

He couldn't find word, but she just smiled again. She set down the purple book, taking one of her socks off and sticking it in as a bookmark. He shuddered. Who did this girl think she was?

She walked across the room, deftly avoiding the piles of things scattered everywhere, and sat on the bed next to him. "What are you doing?" he asked, finally finding his voice. "Helping you," she replied, and pressed a hand to his forehead. Suddenly, he was aware of wisps of magic, purple magic, surrounding them. Instantly, he felt stronger, and realized, with a start, that she was healing him.

"Who are you, mortal?" he asked.

"Who should I be?" was her response.

She pulled her hand away, and he felt himself slipping away. "Go, Loki, go home. I'll see you soon. And don't waste your magic." The mysterious girl gave him another mysterious smile, and then he woke up, in a place he did recognize.

One of Asgard's healers bent over him. He tried to lift his arm, and found that he was chained to the healing chair. "What are you doing?" he croaked.

"Prince Loki," the healer announced. "You are healed, and since you are, I will tell you- you are sentenced for treason of the highest order, impersonating Odin Allfather and taking his rule for yourself. Get up, you need to go to trial."

The healer helped him up, and he stood, feeling stronger then he had in ages. He snapped his fingers, and to his immense relief, saw a tiny flicker of green flame pop up. "Don't waste my magic, dummy. That was only until you have enough for yourself, which, luckily, should be soon."

His head whipped around at the strangely familiar voice, and saw the fire-haired girl leaning casually against one of the beams. She put a finger to her lips, then disappeared. He shook himself, wondering if he was going insane.

He was marched down halls, until finally they reached the newly rebuilt throne room. Thor was sitting upon the throne, and he got up as soon as he saw Loki, his eyes heavy with sadness and disappointment. "I stand for your father, as he is too weak yet to sit the throne yet."

"Oh, how sad," said Loki, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Why?" demanded Thor.

"You said it yourself, the throne is better suited for me then you! And there I was, ruling peacefully until you showed up."

"You passed out from overuse of magic," pointed out Thor.

"The king's job is to never be peaceful. He just needs to keep the peace. And I have. I've rebuilt Asgard. People love me."

"People love Odin, brother. If they had known it was you, well I can only imagine the carnage." Thor said it like a jest, but neither of them smiled. "But still, why?"

Loki sighed. For once, words failed him. He tried to muster up a sentence, but couldn't think of anything witty to say.

"Being on Midgard taught me a lesson, brother. Perhaps it will teach you as well."

Loki laughed. "And you saw how well that went last time, brother."

"I'm sorry to do this. Strip him of his magic."

Instantly, guards came up, and Loki could feel his power, that green something that floated inside him, being stripped away. He grimaced, tried not to wince, because that power that had been part of him for so long, was just... gone.

"It's not gone, brother. Just dormant. When you are worthy of it, it will return to you. But until then, you will walk Midgard. Odin has decreed it so." Thor's eyes turned misty. "I'm truly sorry, brother. But it's not goodbye."

For once, in pain and lost for words, Loki was marched to the Bifrost.

Heimdall sent him without a word, and not much of an expression in his fathomless golden eyes. And for once, Loki didn't voice his thoughts, because he was too in shock, from everything that had happened in the past day, the past week, the past year. Life just kept thowing him challenges, and leaving him no time to recover, leaving a more broken man each time.

So, from the trial, to the Bifrost, and through the rainbow bridge, he said nothing, because he truly had nothing to say. It wasn't until the Bifrost left him standing in the middle of New York City did he find his voice, and he only used it to drop to his knees and scream in anguish.

**Hello, lovelies! crescentmoonthemage here, with another attempt at an Avengers fanfiction! Bear with me, read and review, lovelies!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Step one, you say we need to talk._

_He walks, you say sit down, it's just a talk_

_He smiles politely back at you_

_You stare politely right on through._

_-How to Save a Life, the Fray_

Loki sat there for a long time, not quite sure what to do. The New Yorkers, stupid mortals that they were, just threaded around him, none of them paying him any mind. "Why did I have to end up here?" he cursed at the sky. "You dropped me in a hellhole."

He could almost hear Heimdall laughing.

Finally pulling himself to his feet, he walked down the street. He was considering whether to show up at Stark Towers and put himself in prison, right on the way to being shipped back to Asgard. But that would be too easy. After all, worlds didn't rule themselves. Looking down at himself, he almost thanked the quick-to-recover mortals, for none of them had recognizeded him, and he was still in his Asgardian clothing. "I need to change," he muttered, and was about to use a charm, but then remembered that he had no magic. "Curses,"

And it was in this fashion that he continued down the street.

He wandered the streets for hours, and finally realized that it was growing dark, and he had no money, nor a place to stay. "Great."

He went inside the nearest and most brightly lit place. A few useless mortals were sitting at cozy tables, sipping from mugs of this or that. He was about to leave- he had no place there, with the dogs, but suddenly, he heard a voice coming from the corner. His head whipped around, and his eyes widened, because there before him, real as day, was the red haired girl who had given him magic in a dream. She looked nearly the same. Her feet were on the table, in tall purple boots. She wore a long, blue coat, and was leafing through a large book. He walked over to her.

"Give me my magic," he demanded, slamming his fist on the table. She jumped, training her blue-gray eyes on him. "I have no idea what you're talking about." she said, tucking a strand of ginger hair behind her ear. 

"They took my magic, witch. Give it back, so I can rule the world."

"Whoa man, I can't give you your magic, or whatever you're talking about. For gods sakes, I'm just an actor!"

He sighed, sitting down in the seat next to her and glaring at her disapprovingly. She got up, taking her book, and moved to another table. He just followed, sitting down next to her again. He would follow her as long as it took for her to break and give him back his power. After all, worlds didn't rule themselves.

"What do you want?" she asked, ocean eyes hard. Her book sat abandoned in her hands.

"My magic, woman!" he shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the cafe. "Give it to me! You healed me, you are magical, I saw you! You must have the power to bring magic back! So give it to me, you crazy woman! NOW!"

She stood up, abruptly. "You're the one that's crazy, and if you don't leave me alone, I will call the police." Gathering her book and stuffing it in her bag, she stormed out of the cafe, taking her drink with her. Loki watched her go, for a moment, down the street, and then realized that she was his best chance.

So, he did exactly what mischief-makers do best: he followed her.

She arrived at a large building, the red-haired girl. He followed her inside and took the stairs a few moments behind her. He knocked on the door be had seen her go in, and she answered, and upon seeing his face, immediately slammed it again. Or, tried to- he quickly wedged the toe of his knee-high leather boot inside before she could close it.

"Wait, mortal." he intoned. "Do you work for S.H.I.E.L.D?"

She shook her head. "No, but Steve does. He's just down the hall."

Loki's face went pale. "Steve... Rodgers?"

"Oh, you know him?" she asked, in an odd tone. "Did you ask him for your 'magic' too? Whatever it is you're looking for, I don't have it. So, if that's all you want, can you just leave me alone, because you have the wrong person."

"I saw you in a dream, mortal," he said icily. "You healed me. Can you do so again?"

"Unless you want Band-Aids," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Must I explain this to a child?" he cursed. "Magic, like invisibility, de-materialization, flight, telekinesis! You must have them, you showed me!"

"I've never met you. There's a mental hospital a couple streets over. Do you want me to take you there?"

"I'M NOT INSANE, WOMAN! I AM LOKI, OF ASGARD, YOUR KING, SO GIVE ME MY MAGIC!"

Her face went pale. "Go away."

"Not without magic."

"Go away, and I won't tell Steve you were here."

"I don't have a place to stay. Will you deny your king?"

"Yes." she replied, kicking his foot out of the door and slamming it in his face.

"At least tell me your name!" he pleaded, and she could hear him, voice muffled by the door.

"Sierra Dyer. Now leave, before I tell Steve you were here."

After a moment, she could hear his footsteps retreating. Sierra sighed in relief, scrubbing her hands through her red-ginger hair. She unpacked her bag, setting her phone on the table and carefully getting out her Les Miserables script. They had only started rehearsal a few weeks ago, and it still shocked her that she had gotten the part of Fantine, on Broadway.

But, she could know say she'd seen stranger.

Loki of Asgard, the seriously creepy god that had tried to take over the world about a year ago- yelling at her about magic? She laughed as she thought about it. "Least he didn't try to kill me. That's a plus."

She kicked off her boots and turned on the lights in her apartment, making some Mac and Cheese for a late dinner. Rehearsals usually went late, but that was alright, because it was something she loved, and she was getting paid. Where was the downfall to that?

Suddenly, she heard a loud crash and she screamed, running into the living room. And screamed again when she saw Loki, sitting in her living room next to a broken vase.

"How the HELL did you get in here?" she demanded.

"Mortals are so stupid, they forget to lock their windows," was his reply.

"If you don't leave, I am calling Stark," she threatened.

"Call him," said the raven, crossing his arms.

"What do you even want? I don't have your magic?" she asked, voice cold.

He shrugged. "I got sent her for a lesson. It won't teach me anything. But I need a place to stay- and you have one. So I am now staying here. Before you make any objections, know that you are speaking to your king."

She lunged forward and slapped him on the cheek, hard. "Before **you** decide you can just stay here, you should know two things. One, you are not my king. You will not be my king. And two, my house, my rules. Get out, now."

He sighed. "I think not."

Alright, she had had it. That was enough. Her fist swung forward and connected with his jaw, hard. He sat there, dazed, so she took the opportunity to take the pair of handcuffs she had lying around (Steve had so graciously given them to her) and handcuffed him to her counter.

"Have a good night, Loki." she spat, before going into her room, locking the door, and going to bed.

**Hi, Lovelies! Thanks for all the positive support for the first chapter. Just to get the ball rolling- here's Chapter 2! I'm not sure when I'll find time to update again, hopefully soon, but I will do my very best. Thanks again!**

**Keep Writing,**

**Crescent Moon the Mage**


	3. Chapter 3

_In this farewell,_

_There's no blood, there's no alibi_

_'Cause I've drawn regret_

_From the truth of a thousand lies_

_So let mercy come and wash away_

_What I've done_

_-What I've Done, Linkin Park_

Loki was sure of one thing- and one thing only.

Midgardian women were insufferable. _He _hadn't done anything wrong, just followed her, pestered her, climbed through her window.

Looking back on it, doing all that to Sierra Dyer might have been a bit strange, to her. But it had been good fun for a trickster. He smiled maliciously. He had played captured, and hurt, until all was quiet. Then, it had been really quite easy to spring himself out of those childish Midgardian things and free himself from her counter. It was time for a little fun.

Loki still wished he had his magic, it would make the ordeal a bit easier, but every good liar had to improvise. In a few hours, he had devised a very clever throne out of her couch furniture. He wouldn't sit on it, of course, the furniture was _far_ too lesser for that. After all, he was royalty. He left a note, and just as dawn was creeping up over the New York skyline, he slipped out of the apartment. He would find someone else to give him back his magic. Surely someone could, and then he could take over Midgard instead.

In the hallway, he saw the stairs, he was almost free- when suddenly, another apartment door opened. And out stepped Steve Rodgers. Loki swore under his breath, before trying to look as unsuspicious as he could. But when he was grabbed from behind and wrenched around, he knew he was done.

"Loki," said Steve. "You're coming with me."

"You don't have to take me anywhere. You see, I'm with your friend Sierra Dyer down the hall." He put on his most convincing smile.

"You know, for the God of Lies, you can't lie to save your own skin. We're going to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Loki sighed. These people...

The first thing Sierra noticed when she woke up was how quiet it was. Something just felt... off. She racked her brain to remember. Last night... rehearsal, street, coffee, Loki, home, LOKI! She dashed out into the kitchen to find a pair of handcuffs chained to her counter, and an empty house. She ran out into the living room- but stopped short. All her furniture had been stacked into a crude throne, and in the center was a piece of paper. She read it. In small, neat handwriting, were three words:

You will kneel.

She sighed, and ran to the phone. Luckily, her director picked up on the first ring. She cleared her throat (it really was lucky she was an actress, voices were her specialty) and began to talk in a tired, sick voice. "I can't come in today. I seem to have contracted the flu. I don't want to give it to the rest of the cast." She threw in a couple of coughs and a sneeze. Luckily, her director bought it.

"Just get better, girl. Come back as soon as you can."

More coughing. "Thanks, Niv," she wheezed, and hung up the phone. Grabbing a bagel from the basket on the counter, she pulled on her boots. "Why am I doing this?" she wondered. "Why, oh why, oh why?"

Munching her bagel, she locked her apartment door and strode off down the hall. There wasn't any hope checking with Steve, he would already be at work. So, she went with her next best bet. And she prayed to God that Tony wouldn't be too hungover to deal with her.

Catching a taxi, she sped to Stark Tower, tapping her fingers nervously on the window the whole way. She thanked the driver for getting her there swiftly, and stepped into the foray of the building. A very angry man sat behind a desk. He looked up and scowled at her as soon as she walked in.

"I'm not in the mood, so before I throw you out, who are you and what do you want?" he asked.

"My name's Sierra Dyer and I'm here to see Tony Stark."

The man frowned in a very unpleasent way, his eyebrows coming together. "Mr. Stark doesn't see just _any_ girl." He put unneeded emphasis on the word _any_. She sighed.

"I'm not just _any_ girl." she replied. "Are you a fan of Broadway?"

"Why yes," the man replied, looking quite surprised. "I follow it quite profusely. I know all the actors on it, even newcomers who haven't yet seen an opening night."

She sighed. "Then you should know who I am. JARVIS, take me up."

"Miss Dyer, how lovely it is to see you again," replied JARVIS. The elevator doors behind her opened with a pleasant ding. She stepped into them, all the while smiling at the unpleasent secretary. "Oh, and I have seen an opening night." she added, before the doors dinged shut and she was shot up one hundred floors into the heart of Stark Tower.

The doors opened into the kitchen, where Bruce Banner was cutting an apple. She stepped out. He looked up. "Oh, Sierra, hi. What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to Stark. By the way, have you seen Steve today?"

"Yeah, he's in the prison room. Caught Loki or something. Why'd you stop working for S.H.I.E.L.D? You were a good agent."

"I got on Broadway. That was more important."

He nodded and went back to cutting the apple. Sierra left the kitchen and went up a few stairs to the prison room. Inside, Steve was standing outside the newely refurbished glass box. Loki was standing inside, grinning wickedly like it was Christmas. Neither of them had noticed her yet, until she stepped out of the dark and cleared her throat. Steve looked over. "Sierra. What in God's name are you doing here?"

"I'm here for him." She gestured to Loki, whose smile had all but vanished.

"You're friends with this idiot?" asked Steve, turning his shield over and over in his hands.

She nodded. "Something like that. He was staying with me for the time being, and popped out because I left my script in the office downstairs. Is that when you caught him?"

Steve nodded, looking fully confused. "Well, if he's really staying with you, I guess you can have him." He pressed a button and the door popped open. Loki hesitently stepped out, and slowly walked over to her, looking even angrier then the man downstairs.

"Thanks, Steve. See you around. Hey, are all of us still on for dinner tomorrow with Stark?"

"Yep, just bring something and meet here at seven."

She nodded, and walked out, not looking to see if Loki followed her. He did, of course, but he didn't talk at all until they were in the elevator going down. "What are you doing here, witch?" he spat, words laced with venom.

She shrugged, and he noticed that she was still in pajamas. She seemed to have thrown on boots and come straight over, without even bothering to get dressed. "I saved your ass," she pointed out. "And I called in sick to miss rehearsal with my best friends, so you'd better be grateful."

"Best friends?" he asked, with a wicked smile. "You seemed fond of Steve up there. And what's this, you're having dinner with the Avengers tomorrow?"

"First rule of staying in my house- no personal history unless I tell you."

He stared at her in surprise, but laced his words with sarcasm. "Now you're letting me stay. Why?"

She stared at him, an odd expression in her blue-gray eyes. "First off, I don't have your magic. But I guess I'm letting you stay because I love helping people. And you, no matter what you say or what you think, have good in you."

"Then why are you an actress?" he scoffed. "Actors and actresses don't help people. They just stand on their pretty little stages and read the words that were written for them."

She turned away, a faraway look coming over her face. "Actors change people. When someone walks into our theatre, we want them to come out feeling different. We try to change their views, make them think something different. This is how things get done. You can kill the fighters, you can make them scream, but no matter how hard you try, ideas will endure."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but found, not for the first time in a few days, that he was lost for words. After a moment, the elevator doors opened and the strange, fire-haired girl who called herself Sierra walked out, not looking to see if he would follow.

But what choice did he have, really?

He sighed, and walked out behind her.

**Hello again, my dear Lovelies! I'm sorry for being away, but life has gotten oh-so-busy yet again. But now I'm on break, so here's a chapter. Hope you enjoyed! See ya'll next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

_It's been a long time coming since I've seen your face_

_I've been everywhere and back trying to replace_

_Everything that I've had till my feet went numb_

_Praying like a fool that's been on the run_

_-Feel Again, One Republic_

Loki followed Sierra down the street, trying to hold back from biting remark after biting remark. After a few moments, he realized that they weren't going the same way as they had. He walked up beside her, and she looked at him. "Where are you taking me now, darling, one of your feeble jails? That won't work out for everyone, especially not for you," he hissed.

"No, you idiot, I'm taking you to a clothing store. You can't walk around in... that." She gestured to his outfit.

"And what's wrong with my clothing, pray tell."

"Must I explain everything, as if to a child?" she asked, and he realized that she was mocking what he had said the day before.

"I am your king, you will not mock me!" he shouted, making more then a few New Yorkers stare at them. She rounded on him. "NOT HERE!" she shouted. "On this world, you are in MY home. And you are not a king, you're nothing but a typical bully. And I've dealt with people like you before."

She seemed like she wanted to say more, but then something in her pocket started making a strange "vworp, vworp" sound. She pulled out a small box looking object encased in blue and put it to her ear. "Hey, 'Jorn," she said. "What's up?"

She waited for a minute, and then sighed and spoke again, into the box. "It's a long story. Honestly. I can't explain it on the phone, it might still be bugged from my time at S.H.I.E.L.D. Meet me at my apartment in an hour. Okay, bye."

She pressed a button on the box and stuck it back in her pocket. "Well, we'd better make your shopping trip fast." She studied him. "Your boots will do. So will your pants. Come on." She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a large building. Inside were racks of clothing as far as the eye could see. "Grab some shirts, maybe a scarf, whatever you want that's under a hundred. And make it quick."

He stared at her for a moment, not used to being treated in this way. "You know what?" he said to her. "Yeah?" she asked.

"You may have gotten me out of that prison, but who would want to live with you? Not me. I am your king, and I don't have to do anything you want. Goodbye, Sierra Dyer, and thank you for getting me out of S.H.I.E.L.D, but I never want to see you again."

"I won't stop you, then," replied Sierra. "But if you ever feel otherwise, if you ever want a place to stay or a friend or something, you know where to find me. Here's my spare key." She pressed a key into his hand. "Keep it or not, it doesn't matter to me, but for some reason, I trust you." She leaned in and whispered in his ear: "Don't break it,"

Then, just like that, she was gone, walking out the door like she had never known him, her red-as-flames hair flowing behind her as she strode off down the street. He was confused, for a moment. He didn't like her, not one bit, and yet she was the most intriguing mortal he had ever known. She infuriated him and he hated her, and yet she was free-willed enough to just walk out on him- her rightful king! He stared at the apartment key in his hand, before sticking it in his pocket. He would never willingly go to her apartment. He could find something better. He just had to look.

A few streets over, Sierra Dyer caught a taxi and was speeding back to her apartment. She ran upstairs and realized two things- one: she was still in pajamas, two- her furniture was no longer stacked into a throne. "Oh yeah, landlord cleaning day. At least that's something else I don't have to worry about."

She ran into her room and changed clothes, stuffing her ratty old pajamas into the dirty laundry basket and grabbing a Sherlock shirt and some jeans. Just in time, too, because as soon as she was done, the door buzzed. She ran over and opened it. "Bjorn, hi! Come in, come in."

He came inside and she closed the door. "Anybody I have to beat up?" he asked, teasing. "Nope, that's Orion and Paul's job. Besides, I don't even know where he went." The guy who was as good as her brother grinned. "So, what's the story?" he asked. "By the way, nice shirt." She laughed.

"It's a weird story. So, I was at Starbucks yesterday, looking over my script, when this guy barges in and demands that I give him back his magic. I leave, because I have no idea what he's talking about, and he follows me home. Then, I realize that he's Loki, and I chain him to my counter and go to bed. By morning, he's gone and I find him in Stark's place. I say he's with me, and we leave and I'm going to get him some new clothes and he doesn't like me, so he wants to leave, and for some reason, I trust him, and I give him my spare key and I walk off."

She sighed and sank down on the couch. "What have I done, 'Jorn?" she asked. He laughed. "Well, you've always been the strange type." She smiled. "That's the truth, isn't it?"

He grinned. "Come on, let's watch some Doctor Who."

Loki walked through town. He was determined to find something better then that stupid red haired vixen. She was nothing to him. Nothing. Somehow, he ended up on 53rd Street, and saw a large studio in front of him. The door appeared to be ajar, and so he snuck in to a large room. There were set pieces and costumes everywhere, but the room was dark. He sat down in the corner, not seeing another option. Before he knew it, his eyes were closed and he was asleep.

"You're an idiot, you know," came a familiar voice. He opened his eyes, and walking up to him, surrounded in gray light, was Sierra Dyer. "I'm the only chance you have." She gave an ethereal smile. "Take it while you got it," she whispered in his ear, and then vanished. Suddenly, he woke to a scream. He opened his eyes once more to find Sierra Dyer yet again, looking normal this time and rather shocked, surrounded by other people all staring at him. He sighed. "Good morning, mortals. Kneel?"

Sierra slapped him.

**Hi, Hi, Hi, Lovelies! I had more time, so here this is, because I'm in love with writing this story- and since you love it, here it is! :) Happy Thanksgiving!**

**-crescentmoonthemage**


	5. Chapter 5

"What are you DOING here?" Sierra demanded, face as red as her hair. He shrugged innocently. "Found a place to sleep."

"In OUR studio? Really?"

"Looks like it. I'm going to go now. I hope to never see you again, Miss. Dyer. Here's your key. I have no need of it."

She laughed, her eyebrows raised. "For the God of Lies, you are a terrible liar. If you don't want it, get rid of it yourself."

He sighed. "I am your king, darling," Sarcasm dripped from his voice. "This is not my duty."

She laughed. "Three things, Loki Laufeyson." He flinched at the use of his name. How did she know it? "One, you're not my king, two, it is your duty. There's a trash can over there. And three, I'm not your darling."

Without another word, she disappeared into another room, followed by everyone else. Loki sighed heavily, before inspecting the key in his hand and lobbing it out the window into the street. He had no need of puny mortals, he was Loki, King of Asgard.

And, he realized a few minutes later, he had no options.

He finally went and sat down outside the studio. Sierra didn't reappear until almost noon, and she seemed very surprised to see him sitting there. "You stayed. Do you really want to stay with me?"

"Well, _want _is a bit strong. More like I don't a choice," he said harshly. She laughed. "You threw away the key, otherwise you would have gone by now. Come on, let's walk home."

She began to walk down the street and he followed her. "How did you know that I threw the key away?" he wondered.

"Sherlock," she said, as if that explained everything. We can watch it tonight?"

"What makes you say we are going to watch anything tonight?" he said coldly.

"Me," she said, smiling. It didn't seem sarcastic, though, for some reason. It seemed genuine.

"Is this like your idea of therapy or something?" he scowled at her.

"If that's what you want to make it. You can hate me every day, too, if you want, but that might not work so well."

"Are you even good? Are you plotting to kill me or something? Are you going to bring me to S.H.I.E.L.D?"

She smiled knowingly. "Want me to prove that I'm alright?"

He crossed his arms. "I'm ready to watch, little mortal."

She stared up at the cloudy sky. "Heimdall?" she asked.

Suddenly, a rainbow-hued light enveloped her, pouring down from the sky. Loki stared, openmouthed, but then realized that the light was his ticket home. He ran at it, but suddenly, the light disappeared. She just smiled. "How on Earth did you do that?" he asked, dumbfounded. She grinned. "I watch things. And I have a friend named Jane Foster."

He groaned. "Jane Foster, I hate her."

She laughed. This strange girl who he despised and yet could not leave alone waved her arm, and a yellow car sped towards them. The door opened and she got in. "Coming?" she asked. He sighed and got in, and the car sped off down the street. A few minutes later, the car stopped in front of a familiar apartment building. She got out and he followed.

They walked up a few flights of stairs, and she unlocked a door, number 408, he noticed. She gestured for him to go inside. "Well, here's my pad. Spare bedroom's right there, food's in the fridge. Make yourself at home. Oh, and my room's locked for a reason, please don't go in."

"Which room is yours?" he asked, feigning curiosity. "The T.A.R.D.I.S room. Bigger on the inside."

"What's a T.A.R.D.I.S?"

"Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. Basically, a blue phone box."

"What on Asgard does a blue phone box have to do with space?"

"Long story. I gotta get back, see you at 5 or so."

She grabbed a container out of the fridge, and then she was gone.

Instantly, he walked over to the blue door she had gestured to earlier. It really was cleverly painted. It had windows in the top of it, and a sign which he didn't bother to read. There were two handles. He pulled on one and looked at it oddly when a small compartment opened and an old-fashioned phone swung out. "What on Earth?" he cursed. "This is the dumbest door I've ever seen. It has no purpose. He closed the phone box and tried the other handle. "Not locked," he grinned, evilly, and let himself into the room.

It was the same room he had seen in his dreams, when he was lying on the bed. It had a colorful comforter on it, with different stripes of color. He lay down on it, looking around. A window seat with a plump cushion overlooked New York. The walls and shelves were an eclectic mix of posters and paintings. A long brown trench coat sat on a chair. A yellow smiley face was painted on the wall with what appeared to be spray paint. There were the same posters he had seen, Wicked, Newsies, and others. Drawings and sketches hung everywhere, of strange things, from a man in a black coat jumping off a building to a girl with blonde hair so long it hung all over the floor, holding a frying pan. There was a large bullitin board, simply labeled: Fangirl Feels, and it had pictures and sketches all over it as well. What appeared to be a sword hung on the wall, alongside a bright red bowtie. All in all, it was the weirdest room he had ever seen, and he hated it. Getting up, he went out and closed the blue door.

Going into the spare bedroom, he found it much simpler, and very boring. "Why do I stay here?" he wondered. "This is the dumbest idea. I just want to rule them!"

Worlds away, Thor sat with Heimdall. "Who is she?" he asked.

"A mortal, with great abilities. She watches, and listens, and will not lead him astray."

"Why did you open the Bifrost for her?"

"To tell him that she is where he belongs. Who knows, this Sierra Dyer might change Loki for the better."

"Or for the worse," worried the thunder god.

"Give her a chance. She seems to know what she is doing. She will not let him rule anyone, much less her. She is a free spirit."

"Are you absolutely sure this is wise?"

Heimdall nodded. "It is so, and it shall be so, unless it is not. Trust in her, she seems wise for her years."

Thor nodded. "If it is what you think is best."

Heimdall said nothing, just went back to watching the stars with ageless eyes.


End file.
